


The Cure for Truffle Gateau

by recrudescence



Category: Inception
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-07
Updated: 2010-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames made a very small, very pained sound. "No." Arthur stared at him. "Eames. Tell me you didn't eat an entire cake."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cure for Truffle Gateau

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a kink meme prompt: _Eames eats too much and doesn't feel too well afterwards._

On his side, arms over his head, shirt rucked up to show the stretch of his side and the planes of his stomach. Head pillowed on the bend of one elbow, the other slung over his eyes. Arthur took in the scene and considered walking back out the door, but it was too late.

"Yusuf, darling, is that you?"

They were in Bruges and Yusuf, to the best of Arthur's knowledge, was nowhere close. Arthur had been exploring the Groeninge Museum, Eames sleeping in and making noise about trying his luck in a betting parlor. Somewhere in there, something had clearly not gone as planned. Sighing, stepping inside the room, Arthur closed the door behind him. "Just me. Sorry to disappoint."

"Apology unaccepted. I need Yusuf and his magic. Possibly my mother and last rites. Mere pharmaceuticals aren't enough."

"What have you done to yourself now?" he asked, because it was impossible not to. After a job well done, Eames had a penchant for celebrating in style, treating himself to embarrassingly garish things like casinos and strip clubs and exorbitant room service for him and whoever else he had in his room. Arthur knew because for the last several jobs, _he_ had been the one in the room. He hadn't thought people outside of sub-par romance films indulged in things like enormous rose-petal strewn bathtubs and heedless misuse of champagne, but Eames had cheerfully proved him wrong time and time again.

"Truffle gateau," Eames finally said, in tones of agony. Arthur had heard him sound less pained after taking a shot to the kneecap.

A glance across the room revealed a tray covered with a fine dusting of chocolate crumbs. Arthur deposited his jacket over a straightbacked chair. "That must have been an amazing slice of cake."

Eames made a very small, very pained sound. "No." Arthur stared at him. "Eames. Tell me you didn't eat an entire cake."

"It was a _gateau_," Eames corrected, as if that made all the difference. "And before you judge me, it was sublime. I highly recommend it. In moderation, of course."

Arthur said nothing. Eames peeked out from under his arm and the hint of a tattoo peeked out from under his sleeve. Poor choices were very much a part of who Eames was, but somehow there was an appeal to it Arthur couldn't put his finger on. "You're judging me anyway, aren't you?"

"Very much," Arthur admitted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.

"Your mockery never fails to be a panacea," Eames grumbled, and Arthur gave a brief, closemouthed laugh and neatly shifted onto his side to press up behind him. Lips against the edge of one ear, knuckles grazing Eames's ribs, now and again brushing the hem of his shirt.

"That's a big word for someone who thinks with their stomach." Eyes drifting shut, the scent of lemon soap and mint mouthwash lapping over him, as if Eames had tried to scrub away all remnants of chocolate. "How the hell do you ever manage to stay employed?"

"Oh, bugger off." One eloquently lifted middle finger jabbed him in the eyebrow. Humming vaguely, Arthur closed his teeth over it, lips pursing and tongue sweeping slow and wet along the tip. Spooning up to him a tad more firmly when Eames sighed contently and seemed to squirm into the contact just a little.

"Still missing Yusuf and your mother?"

Eames's half-bared back arched easily against him, Arthur's hand dropping naturally to rub small circles just beside the protrusion of one hip. Hearing and feeling it as Eames drew a breath in deeply, ribs expanding and contracting under the pads of Arthur's fingers, voice a little strained and a little raspy and entirely wonderful. "You're so excellent at initiating inappropriate conversations."

Arthur only laughed against his nape, dropping damp little kisses that made Eames sigh and fall silent. He took his time, pulling that shirt a little higher and slowly, carefully palming over the skin he exposed. Eames's breaths rose and fell, gradually settling into a rhythm that almost had Arthur believing he'd dropped off.

Hands gentle, relearning the arches of hips, the sweet-slight curve to that usually flat stomach, the fullness of those lips. And Eames kissed against his fingertips then, sighing quietly. Still awake, if only barely.

Lower; grazing nipples, circling his belly button, thumbing into the partially exposed hollows of his hips. Once or twice venturing along the cotton of Eames's sleep pants to cradle the softness of his cock, feeling his breaths stutter and his lower body thrust lazily against him. Caressing slowly and deliberately back up his stomach, chest, lingering over the small peak of a nipple, shushing him with a kiss when Eames uttered a quiet moan.

Eames had confessed once to having them pierced during a self-proclaimed punk phase, and Arthur would have paid good money for photographic evidence of that time, but he settled for seeing them in his subconscious sometimes and that was almost as good. His imagination was generally enough, especially when he plucked the sensitive nubs of flesh and Eames gasped lightly. Responsive as he'd always been in Arthur's dreams, before he ever experienced the reality.

"You're such a child," Arthur reprimanded him, and Eames's mouth was open and slack, muscles clenching when Arthur pinched just beneath the dip of his navel. Pliant flesh of his cock growing heated and hard under Arthur's teasing fingers, balls drawing up tightly, nipples flushed and erect, shirt pushed up under his armpits and Arthur pushing _himself_ up enough to go about teasing the little nubs with his teeth and tongue. "Putting everything in your mouth regardless of whether or not it's actually a good idea. Where's your self-control?" Eames's cock was pressing out the front of his pants, Arthur stroking there and lapping across that broad chest to bite-suck-tease at the other nipple. He felt Eames's groan as it rumbled out of him.

Self-control. Gone, as Eames writhed into him on top of the covers, his middle tensing under Arthur's hand, voice uttering something broken and unintelligible when Arthur's fist was finally wrapping around his cock. Squeezing lightly, easing messy-warm drips of fluid from the slit and casually spreading the heat of it over the head of his erection. "_Fuck_," murmured Eames, and Arthur smiled into the vulnerable flesh of his waist.

"Ah-ah." Clucking over him, slapping once at the inside of one thigh when Eames hissed out a curse and tried to turn onto his back and spread his legs. Arthur lets go of him in favor of drawing light little sketches over Eames's belly with his fingertips, leaving faint wet trails of his own precome behind, until Eames shuddered and settled back onto his side.

"That's it," whispering, reassuring him, dragging his nails deftly up the center of Eames's torso just to feel him tremble. "Keep your hands above your head for me." Ducking to kiss the slick tip of his cock, liking the way Eames's exposed body stretched and tensed and clenched for him, the way the arch of his stomach felt under his hand. "Good...keep them there, just like that..._just _like that."

Slowly skimming nails and stroking down the length of his body once again, the tip of Eames's cock brushing the lower portion of his stomach, bobbing hard and red and wet against the side of Arthur's hand when it moved low enough every now and then. Arthur's palms touching him everywhere but there, rubbing against soft hair and flushed skin and hard muscle with purposeful clumsiness, his own body push-thrusting against the curve of Eames's ass over and over again.

"Arthur, you _fucker_." Eames's eyes were closed, his color high, fists gripping at the sheets.

And Arthur gave in and bent and licked him, light and delicate

Nuzzling there, mouthing at his cock as Eames gritted out his name again, trying to make him go deeper; _please, Arthur_, quiet sighs and gasps of satisfaction and _need_. His hand once venturing down to rest on Arthur's hair—_God, you feel so good,darling_—but Arthur only traced wetly up the underside of his cock with the point of his tongue. Undulating gently against him from behind, his own erection tenting his slacks, not sucking him properly until Eames's arms were both over his head once more.

With Eames, Arthur took great pleasure in going at his own pace. Anything to wind him up and shut him up, and if it had the bonus of making him cry out and and try to arc up and wriggle his pants even lower, so much the better. If it had him practically _whimpering_, quivering and making a strangled little sound when he came, fucking_God_, that was better still.

Eames finally went sprawling onto his back and Arthur let him. Hands stroking blindly over everything within reach while Arthur took his time licking him clean, eyes only slitting open when Arthur's mouth closed over his own. "We'll _have_ to try that again sometime."

"Hedonistic slut." Arthur's face was completely straight, but his voice was amused. "It's always all about you, isn't it?"

Eames lifted his brows in agreement, a smile curving his lips.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

"That overeating leads to fantastically devoted attention? Absolutely." Eames snuggled against him without pretense, slipping his shirt over his head, back fitting neatly against Arthur's front.

"Once you finish digesting, I'm not letting you out of my sight." Arthur's mouth brushed the sensitive space between Eames's shoulder blades, fingers skimming back and forth against the faint trail of hair leading to his groin. With Eames facing the other way, he grinned widely. "So, did you know this city has a chocolate museum? A _chocolate museum_. It'd be a crime to miss out on that kind of cultural appreciation."

"_God_." Eames turned over as if buoyed by the force of his own groan and mouthed him into a kiss, wet and slow and thorough. Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, words low and lackadaisical. Thumb sliding between two of Arthur's shirt buttons. "Let's just stay in today, mm?"


End file.
